


Panic! at the hook-up

by Cerberos



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Awkward Conversations, Falling In Love, Fluff, Getting Together, Hugs, Introspection, M/M, Moving In Together, One Night Stands, Romantic Comedy, Sexual Content, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-07 01:17:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5438111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberos/pseuds/Cerberos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akashi wakes up after a drunk one night stand feeling at peace with the world.<br/>Unfortunately the brunet in his arms doesn't seem to think the same way.</p><p>(or an AU where Furi and Akashi have been scarred by terrible relationships in the past that one never wants to get into them and one waits in vain for someone to love him back)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shintarouthewizard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shintarouthewizard/gifts).



“Aaaah...haaa...I-ahhh....I-I-haa....c-c-coming!! Haaaa......”

“Nnnngghh....nngg..me too...haa...nnnggh...”

Akashi rode out the remnants of his orgasm, feeling his partner quake under him as the pleasure overtook both of them. Their limbs were shaking and quivering, garbled moans and mewls spilling out in tandem, tongues dancing with each other, wave after wave crashing as they fell over the edge together. His pace broke and groaned as he went still and flopped on top of him, fully sated. He panted, completely sapped of all energy but feeling exhilarated at the same time, as he waited for his racing heartbeat to return to normal.  
After a few sobering minutes of calming his breath, he peeled himself off of his partner balancing his body onto one elbow before he lay beside him, gazed at the ceiling and wondered why tonight felt like the most strenuous and possibly the most mind blowing experience ever. With the very last drop of dwindling strength, he tied up the condom and threw it in the trash before snatching the wet wipes off of the dresser to clean them both. Convinced that they were now suitably clean, he pulled up the blanket to envelop them as he put an arm around him gingerly.

  
He had already noted with slight amusement that his partner for the night had fallen unconscious after their last tryst; he supposed that after the many rounds they went at that night, it was sort of....expected. He felt him move and was pleasantly surprised to see the unconscious brunet snuggle up to his side, wrapping an arm around his torso and burying his head against his neck. Chuckling to himself, he tightened his hold around him, feeling the soft sweaty brown strands tickling his jaw, sending a warm sensation to his chest, his heart beginning to thud in a slow strange rhythm.

  
Well, now that was a first.

  
He had given his heart before and gotten it back broken and shattered and shredded but he had never given it on a whim. Never in a single night of passion, never to someone who was stone drunk by the time he had met them, never to a complete stranger whose name he didn’t know, never to someone who probably won't even remember what had transpired between them and never this fast. But, tilting his head a little to look at the brunet, tucking a stray lock behind his ear, hand travelling down to the slightly toned chest where the heart beat with the same rhythm as his, utterly synchronized, he realised that it probably was too late for him to decide.

Akashi was falling.

And falling fast.

  
He was sure that it wasn’t fully love: more like a growing infatuation and longing, but he knew deep within him as he turned on his side to view him better - seeing the peaceful expression on the brunet’s face, stray tears dried up at the corners of his eyes, dazed out whimsical smile still teasing the edges of his lips as they plopped slightly open, the red on his cheeks fading as he slipped further into his dreamless sleep - he knew he wanted to know everything there was to know about him and see this - whatever this was - through.

Staring at the stranger, boring into him with his ruby eyes as if he were a puzzle he has yet to decipher, but feeling a little nervous and at the same time excited at the prospect of what was to come, he sighed, lowering his lids as the steady breathing of the brunet lulled him to sleep. He figured he would sleep in for an hour at the maximum before waking him up and properly introduce himself to actually begin whatever they have accidentally started. Snuggling a little closer, burying himself into the warmth that his partner radiated in waves, pulling the blanket up to their ears, he closed his eyes and fell soundly asleep in minutes.

 

It felt like mere seconds before he stirred, cracking open one ruby eye to look at the glowing digital clock beside the bed. He realised to his dull shock that in fact, three full hours have passed. Still half asleep and mind blankly acknowledging the fact that he hadn't slept this peacefully in years, maybe decades, he reached out sleepily for the warmth and found his hand closing around the cold rustled sheets next to him. He shot up, the blanket pooling around his hips and peered into the inky black darkness of the room for any sign of his one night stand as he waited for his eyes to adjust. Hearing a noise somewhere near the far off couch, he zeroed in on the figure that was crawling on all fours and groping for something and cleared his throat, announcing that he was awake.

 

Furihata jumped, hit his head on the coffee table, cursed incoherently and turned around, all the while rubbing the back of his head.

“Ouch!! Owww...it hurts...shhhitt..Oh. Ah....Erm.. Hi? I-I didn’t know y-you were awake. I, uh, actually thought I was really quiet. Ha ha.” he laughed weakly as he watched the stranger flip the switch near the bed to illuminate the room.

At the sudden invasion of light he winced and shut his eyes before daring to open them again and found himself at the focal point of an intense scrutiny by his one night stand. Squirming just a little, he stood up from where he was crouching to pick up his phone and felt a bit relieved that he was at least fully dressed when the redhead had woken up. Being caught naked would only double the already awkward atmosphere.

  
"You are dressed."

  
A smooth velvety voice cut into his thoughts as he pondered over his lost chances of escaping without notice. If his splitting headache from last night's hangover aggravated by his clumsiness wasn't killing every neuron in his brain, he would say that the naked redhead currently analysing him from head to toe as if he hadn't just tasted and marked every bit of him for hours together, was probably one of the most attractive people he had ever met in his life.

And....probably the last time they would ever meet.

Clearing his throat, he answered, "Yeah...I, uh, I-I have an early morning."

"Yes. I, as well. I have set the alarm. So." The guy patted the place beside him - where Kouki had been mere ten minutes ago - looking at him unblinkingly and clearly wanting him to get back into that bed. "We can sleep for a short while and wake up with plenty of time to spare, enough to have a coffee too."

Kouki stopped rubbing his head and gawked at him trying to process what he had just said. He felt shivers down his spine at the way the guy was looking at him - intensely, almost a little tenderly - but that may be just a trick of light. But what he had spoken and what he was offering...

Oh no.

This was bad.

This would end only badly.

There is no way _in hell_   can he go back there.

Nope.

Kouki, be strong.

_Run_.

RIGHT NOW.

_RUN_.

Panic setting in in full force, Kouki scrambled to get his things. His face sporting a challenge to a ripe beetroot and mind setting off all the alarms to NOT fall for a guy whom he barely even knew, he stammered, "I-I...Th-Thank you. B-But n-n-n-no. I, uh, I, um, I-I have to, um, take c-care of s-s-something!! S-So I will, uh, I-I will see y-you! S-S-Sorry! Really s-sorry! B-Bye!"

He fumbled with his things, double checked whether he had gotten everything - wallet, keys, phone - and inched his way towards the door trying to be as inconspicuous as possible - which was failing big time as the redhead never took his eyes off of him. He was still bowing and apologising repeatedly, offering lame excuses - anything to get out of here - and was almost about to the touch the knob when he heard the other speak in that low, soft voice of his that held a sense of authority he only dreamed he would have.

  
Akashi sighed, "At least tell me your name."

The guy was obviously not interested in spending a second more in his vicinity, Akashi noted with a pang. True, they had shared only one single night and hadn't talked much if not at all, but Akashi had felt something. Something similar to an inkling. Something which told him that he had to just take a leap of faith and pursue whatever this was and see it to the very end. Something which became even more profound when he felt utterly at peace when he had the brunet in his arms as they slept. If not as a romantic interest, though he would be sad to accept it, he still wanted to get to know him better and be a friend at the very least.

Besides, Reo had always said that he shied away from his following his instincts and instead focused only on crude logic and strategic plays, which was why he was never good at relationships. Or at least in maintaining them. And this was the perfect chance to prove that wrong.

But the brunet clearly had other plans.

It was made painfully obvious when he literally threw himself on the floor to go on an impromptu scavenger hunt for his things when he asked him to sleep for a while longer - hinting that this meant more to him than just sex.

Eyes never leaving the guy who was just about to bolt out the door like a frightened rabbit trying to escape the clutches of a terrifying lion when he was guilty of nothing and feeling slightly disappointed, he demanded his name.

  
"Uh..um. Ermm.. I-I...I d-dont think th-thats a g-good idea.. I-I-Its b-better we st-stay strange-gers ok? Y-Yeah. S-So. Um. B-Bye."

  
And he was gone.

The door closed with a soft click.


	2. Chapter 2

"Downtown, as fast as you can!! Hurry!"

Banging open the door, Kouki jumped in and promptly slumped against the back seat of the taxi after yelling instructions to the driver.

 

Well, that hadn't been awkward and scarring at _all_.

 

Shutting his eyes and tipping his head back, he waited for his heartbeat to slow down from its rapid pace. He was still panting from all the panicked running and his ass hurt from him slamming down on the uncomfortable material of the seat. Despite the..... _delicate_ position his ass was in, he had been able to run this fast, he thought wryly. He pressed the heel of his hands to his eyes, evening out his breathing with every passing second.

 

 _Oh god oh god oh god_ -

 

Deciding this was the best opportunity, his mind conjured up images of the stunning redhead and put it on a continuous annoying loop. Some were blurred and hazy and had too much of red but some were far too clear for him not to wince over. Those wide, gorgeous eyes, that glorious body he had come to appreciate so much last night, that velvety voice moaning wordlessly in his ear - sending shivers down his spine even now (pleasant shivers, good shivers, _really_ good) - and ultimately, the words exchanged scant few minutes earlier that had sent him careening towards the door.

 

_Oh. My. GOD._

 

He cringed visibly, recalling what he had said. Done. Both. Oh _god_ , both.

For most part of his life spent on never being rude to anyone, whether an acquaintance or a lover, Furihata Kouki had broken that humble record rather spectacularly this morning.

 

_Gods, just take me now._

 

Kouki groaned, rubbing his hands over his eyes in a vain attempt to block the shocked - and hurt - expression of the redhead out of his mind. Blearily looking out the window as the traffic blurred by, he pushed down those guilty, gut-churning, foul-tasting thoughts to the deepest corners of his mind. Never to be dredged up again.

It wasn't the first time.

He could forget about this and move on with his work. He had done that before and he could do it again. It would take some time, he knew that by experience but its not like he would see the guy again. Kouki nodded to himself, he could do this. He could. He could. He _definitely_ could. He would work until he could forget again. Drowning himself in his work kept his personal demons from plaguing him.

 

But somewhere deep down, a part not dripping with guilt and shame, Kouki wished he could crawl back into that bed and into those warm, gentle arms.

*

 

Akashi gaped at the closed door for a long moment before he threw the blankets off and sat at the edge of the bed, his bare feet firmly planted on the old Persian carpet. A part of him - the part that realised that he had been shunned - wanted to bury itself in the cocoon of blankets and never resurface.

He shuffled to the window and parted the drapes slightly to see the ground below. From his vantage point, he could see the tiny mop of mousy brown hair scurrying along the sidewalk before hailing a taxi and jumping in. The taxi zoomed, nearly running a light, as if a thousand demons were after it.

Ignoring the sinking feeling clawing at his insides, he stared after the rapidly receding sign of the taxi as it rounded the bend and disappeared from his view altogether. He heaved a deep sigh and let the drapes fall back. The room lights suddenly seemed too harsh to be in, focusing on him and silently judging. Rubbing his face with his hands to rid himself of the fatigue he felt, he mentally sifted through the events that happened to see where he had gone wrong. Recapping was his asset, recalling every moment and zoning in on any loopholes. He was famous for that, an attribute applauded by everyone and acknowledged even by his father. But at this moment, he considered it a serious flaw.

Last night had been great. Wonderful, even.

He had never had a partner that was so _responsive_ to him. He could hardly remember throwing cash on the counter before they had rushed off to the room. He himself had never been _that_ passionate before. Images of soft lips and curious hands and flushed body flooded his memory, and if he just thought about it a bit harder, he could almost relive the heated pressure of their frenzied kiss. They hadn't even gone past the entrance for the first round.

And, no matter how mind-blowing the sex was, it had lost the charm to the cuddling that came after. Frankly, that kind of elated, sated feeling he had felt whilst spooning the brunet, was completely new to him. Much more _important_ , so much more than he had ever felt in any of his past flings.

He wanted to know. He wanted to know everything about him. His favourite food, favourite colour, whether he liked cats, his allergies, what movies he liked, whether he liked to eat spicy or sweet food, and so many more tiny significant details. 

 

But he was shot down before he could get a chance.

Akashi dismissed the excuses that came flying to his head.

 

_I wasn't looking for anything serious._

 

_I had just gotten out of a long term relationship._

 

_Etcetera, etcetera._

 

After a brief final look around the shambled, expensive suite, he exited. His things had also been scattered across its expanse, witness to their tryst. Shrugging on his trench coat, he briefly considered whether the price of the room had been the cause for his stand to flee. He didn't mind paying for both, if that was the ca- he stopped that train of thought.

This was nothing more than a one-time thing. For him. And when Akashi offered to make it not a one-night stand, he had been rejected. Rather firmly.

 

_How many times has it been now?_

 

Relationships weren't his forte. Never have been. Reo had always said that and it was true. They were the only con to all of his pros. It didn't matter how much of a successful strategist he was when he clearly - fundamentally - lacked what it took to be in a stable and committed relationship. He was tired of waiting for someone to storm into his life and sweep him off his feet and just..... _be_  with him. He should do what he did until now. Forget and move on. Throw himself into work, body and mind, until he couldn't feel anything.

 

Hailing a taxi to his apartment, a tiny voice inside Akashi persisted, that the brunet from last night _had_ succeeded in sweeping him off.

*

 

"Welcome home, Kouchin~" drawled Atsushi from the kitchen, deftly flipping the pancakes over on the stove, not bothering to turn around.

Kouki shut the door behind him, exhaling a weary sigh as he plonked himself onto one of the high chairs in the kitchen island. He slumped on the table, his arms stretched out in front of him and face planting itself onto the wood.

Atsushi's eyes slid toward him, "Want some pancakes?"

Kouki gave a weak thumbs up, his forehead still caressing the table top enough that he was sure it would leave marks. It didn't matter; with or without his answer, Atsushi would give him a mountain of sugar-loaded items for breakfast. Supposedly one of the benefits of having a resident pastry chef for a roommate, though the thought of diabetes kept knocking at frequent intervals. Nobody would forget the time when they had the stove for repairs and had to eat the pastries from the bakery for all three meals. For a whole week. He could still feel his stomach shrink when he remembered that. Those were some difficult times.

Kouki drummed his fingers, gathering enough energy to lift his head and rest his chin on the table. "Where's Tatsuya?"

Atsushi hummed, attention solely on putting the hot pancakes onto some plates and doling out the next batch. "Murochin is in the shower, Kazuchin is still sleeping." He turned, setting the plates on the table's vast surface, along with jars of nutella and maple syrup and paused to re-tie his hair into a pony tail. It seemed to be getting longer, making him look like a purple-haired pirate. All that was missing was an eye patch and a toothy grin. Kazunari had volunteered to cut it for him, but Atsushi had refused since he felt Tatsuya liked it better this way.

Kouki smiled at that memory. "You know Atsushi, if it gets any longer you can just plait it so you won't have to cut it. And it won't bother you. I know you hate it when it sticks to your nape. Especially in summer."

Atsushi looked at him, considering. "Mm....Murochin knows how to braid hair. I will ask him~" Pushing the dish towards Kouki, he smiled, "Here you go, Kouchin."

Straightening up, as if the effort took every bit of his life strength, Kouki internally grimaced at the gigantic portion on his plate. Delicious as it may be but a man can only eat so much. _How did Tatsuya survive this?_ Smearing the nutella on top of one, he took a bite.

The headache from his hangover was still marching around some part of his brain but his stomach started growling like a raving beast, surprising him. Then it hit. He had not eaten anything since lunch yesterday and that had been just a measly sandwich. With renewed vigour, he wolfed down his breakfast, relishing the taste of chocolate on his tongue. Atsushi sent him a pleased smile from the counter. Pleasant silence filled the air, broken only by the chewing noises and clanking of utensils and sizzling sounds from the pan every now and then.

It didn't last long.

"Hello hello~ What do we have here?" Himuro Tatsuya sauntered into the kitchen, smelling of the lavender soap and fabric softener. He gently towelled his hair dry as he padded to where Atsushi was and leaned up to kiss him. Atsushi tipped his chin down, meeting him halfway. They smiled into the kiss before parting.  "Shower's free now, Atsushi."

Kouki knew what that meant, chewing off a piece of his pancake.

_Code: I love you._

"Mhm~ I am almost done." Atsushi nodded, already back at cooking.

_Code: I love you too._

To be honest, the coded meanings were true for literally every sentence they said to each other. It had taken a few months for Kouki to be in the same room as them and not flee to give them a private moment every time they made eye-contact and adjust to the fact that they _always_ look at each other that way. And there was no helping it.

The soft smile Tatsuya sported turned to a smirk when he faced Kouki. He put the towel around his shoulders and cocked his hip to the side, crossing his arms across his chest. "Well? When did the little kitten wash up on our door?"

Kouki squirmed in his chair, breaking eye contact. Atsushi answered for him. "About half hour ago."

Tatsuya's eyes glinted like a predator that had found its prey. His smile stretched, sending a cold shiver down Kouki's back, and moved almost fluidly to seat himself opposite him. Placing his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his hand, predatory smile still in place, he raised a delicate brow. " _So_."

Loaded statement. Kouki knew it was coming. Ignoring him and swallowing down the rest of his meal, Kouki frowned. "Nope. Not telling. You get nothing out of me." Tatsuya was famous for wheedling answers out of anybody and Kouki knew he would crack sooner or later but he wasn't going down without a fight.

It didn't faze him the least. Tatsuya chuckled and straightened to let Atsushi set his breakfast before him, tilting his head to chastely peck his cheek in thanks. _I love you._ Atsushi went back to the stove, but not before placing a soft kiss to Tatsuya's forehead. _I love you too._

Something broke inside him.

_Why?_

This wasn't strange. This happened everyday. It was a sight he was used to seeing. These two had been like this since they had met each other all those years ago and it hadn't changed. Tatsuya was the same intimidating man he had met and Atsushi was the softest person on the planet. But Kouki felt a short pang at the domesticity in front of him.  It shouldn't bother him, after all this time. But it did.

Especially today.

 

Tatsuya hummed a nameless tune as he sliced his meal into perfect triangles and drowning them in maple syrup. He didn't look up from his plate, smiling to himself the entire time as if he was thinking of an inside joke. Kouki bristled.

It seemed strange that he hadn't been harangued for answers yet, it was as if Tatsuya had let the issue go. ......Which was improbable. Or..... he seemed to be waiting for something else, Kouki wasn't sure.

 

"Oh ho ho, look what the gods of shamewalking graced us with."

 

Kouki groaned. Tatsuya threw his head back and laughed. Even Atsushi cracked a smile.

 _Of course_.

They were just waiting for the ganging up to be complete.

Takao Kazunari leaned on the doorjamb, sporting a ridiculous bedhead and grinning like a Cheshire cat. Kouki could practically see the imaginary whiskers twitch as if a new juicy snack was dangling in front of him. He very nearly pounced on the chair next to Kouki, swivelling in place to size him up head to toe, scanning every detail he could absorb.

Kouki resisted the urge to facepalm. Kazunari was still grinning. "Well, for someone who looks like he has been ravished thoroughly, you are sitting down pretty well~ So, tell us, Kou-chan. How, who, when and how many times." As if checking them off a list, Kazunari motioned with his fingers.

"Kazu, that's not right." Tatsuya chided. Both Kouki and Kazunari snapped to him, slightly shocked. Himuro Tatsuya rarely displayed his weird sense of morality and almost _never_ when it came to gossip. He would always be at the forefront of gossip mongers, staking his claim on knowing everybody's closet skeletons. Pushing his empty plate aside, Tatsuya kept his elbows on the island and crossed his fingers to pillow his chin on them. Grey eye glinting wickedly, he sneered. "Start with where."

Kazunari whooshed out a breath. "You had me scared there a second."

Kouki felt cornered when three pairs of eyes focused on him, trapping him with their intensity. Atsushi had finished cooking, taking the towel off of Tatsuya's shoulders to wipe his hands clean, looming from behind Tatsuya to stare down at Kouki. Kazunari hadn't given a glance to Kouki's plate - something he usually steals from. Tatsuya didn't blink once. He fidgeted in place - didn't they know how unnerving their stare was? Who was he kidding. Of course they knew.  _Those little shits._  "Oh lay off, would you? Come on, it was just one night. It doesn't mean anything."

He lazily trailed his finger on his clean plate, tracing the dainty flower patterns and refusing to meet their eyes. He thought back to the redhead, beautiful and mysterious. Guilt made its presence known, snaking its arms around his gut and giving it a twist. He swallowed audibly.

It didn't go unnoticed by the other three.

Kazunari raised his eyebrows, " _Just?_ _One? Night?_ Kou-chan, you haven't gone out once in six _years_. And yesterday, you straight up vanish for the whole night. Without even a message! I wouldn't call _that_ nothing." He placed a hand on Kouki's shoulder and rubbed in reassurance. Then he reached forward to steal the jar of nutella, swiping in a spoon. His eyes closed in bliss when the hazelnut-chocolate mix hit his taste buds. Nobody judged him, they were all guilty of doing the same thing.

"Even the studio wasn't locked." Tatsuya added. " Which _never_ happens. Atsushi was ready to file a complaint."

"But, hey you know what, by the looks of it, you seem to have had a good time." Kazunari shrugged his shoulder and sent him a small smile. He was about to put the spoon back in for a second helping when Tatsuya lightly smacked his hand, scowling at him. Grumbling something along the lines of shared bodily fluids and unfairness that kitchen counters can be christened more often than it wanted to be but he can't put his saliva in nutella, he picked up another spoon.

 

Kouki exhaled loudly. He looked at each of them, meeting their eyes individually and noting the soft, slightly concerned looks on their faces. "Sorry for making you guys worry. I just....... I heard _he_  was getting married and I.....snapped." He looked down at his plate again, finding the twining flower patterns infinitely more interesting. "I know I shouldn't feel this way. I know I should have moved on a long time ago. I know I shouldn't let him get to me. Not after everything that happened. Not after six full years. I know I know I know. But." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The memories of the text message received yesterday from an unknown number still fresh, still haunting. Opening them, he tipped his head up. "But, I _couldn't_. And I wanted to get away from there. I didn't want to stay put. I didn't know where to go or what to do. I just. I _ran_." He finished lamely.

He peered at Kazunari, whose face was gaping in shock. Atsushi and Tatsuya were doing no better. "I know I should have called you. If I was getting trashed, I wouldn't want it to be with anyone else but you guys. But yeah. Um." He cleared his throat. "I didn't think at all. No, that's not right. More like, I didn't _want_ to think. All I knew was I didn't want to talk about it and go someplace no one would recognise me. So." He gestured to the whole of himself in explanation. "I went and got done." He laughed weakly at his own statement, the sound faltering in the tense atmosphere of the kitchen.

Silence reigned for a grand total of three seconds before the room thudded with movement.

" _Oh my god_ , Kou-chan!" Kazunari lunged, burying his face in Kouki's shoulder. Atsushi stalked forward to hug them both, his hulking mass enveloping them fully in his arms as he placed his chin on top of Kouki's head and rubbed it comfortingly. Tatsuya squeezed Kouki's hands resting on the table separating them. "I am just so glad you are safe."

Kouki blushed, his eyes tearing up at the corners at all the affection directed at him. "You _guys_." He sighed, squeezing Tatsuya's hands in his and resting his head against Kazunari's. "It was fine really. Well hoooookay, ha ha, not fine if you knew how much I drank but you know, I slept with this great guy, and. See? Still in one piece and feeling bett-" Wait.

The air stilled. Kazunari slowly shifted to share a loaded look with Tatsuya before they turned to Kouki and quirked their eyebrows in unison. " _Great_ Guy?"

He froze.

 

_Shit._

 

_Shit shit shit._

 

Atsushi's arms were no longer warm and welcoming but were holding him there, confining him to the chair as his three roommates and long time friends since high school rounded on him. If he had thought the intensity in their stare before was intimidating, this beat that by a hundred. Tatsuya squeezed his hands tighter, his sharp eye gleaming, mouth pulling up at the corners. "Spill. _Now_." 

Kazunari echoed, securing his hold around Kouki. "Leave out nothing."

Kouki wriggled. It was futile. Atsushi chuckled above him. "Kouchin actually thinks he can escape. It's cute~"

"Why. _Why_ do I have such assholes for friends?" He lamented, shooting a pleading glance at the ceiling, wishing he could be struck by lightning right about now. "I thought you guys cared about _me_ more than my one-night stand."

Tatsuya dismissed it with a flick of his bangs. "Oh we do. But, you know. Sometimes priorities change."

"Sure, we can drown you in chocolates and watch Mean Girls with you tonight Kou-chan." Kazunari seconded, nodding. "That comes after. _This_ , though." His voice got higher, grin getting impossibly wider, excitement pouring in, "The guy, Kou-chan, the _guyyyyy!_ You stay out an entire night and that's like - Tatsuya, how many hours?" "Eight, nearly." "Eight?!  _Wooow!!_  Now I _really_ need to meet this great guy of yours who could keep you ah, occupied for eight hours on a week night."

"How do you even know it was eight?!" Kouki balked, staring incredulously at Tatsuya. _Howww_ did he work that out? 

Tatsuya shrugged, "Well I am guessing you started getting trashed around 7-8ish? And yeah, since you can hold out for a while, I assumed you jumped Mr.Great Guy around 11. Am I close?" Kouki didn't know if he was impressed by the deduction or ashamed of his own predictability. One thing for sure. Tatsuya was still as scary as he had been since high school.   

"That's not important! Tatsuya, don't get side-tracked! Focus here, will you? Kou-chan, you better cave in right now before I go online and hunt down that bar and ask aroun-"

"OK OK! Jeez Kazu. Fine. It was......Um...unbelievable, okay?" Kouki choked out, the back of his neck feeling warm. Kazunari whistled lowly as Tatsuya's eyebrows shot up further into his hair. "I wasn't getting as drunk as I wanted to be  - believe me, I wanted to shitface so _bad_ - and this guy sits down next to me and I dunno?? We talked? We danced? I am not.....sure. I _think_ we danced." He squinted at the kitchen wall, trying to piece things back from his hazy memories of last night. He missed the meaningful looks his roommates were sending each other, surreptitiously silent.  "And then, um, sometime before midnight," Kouki angled his head towards Tatsuya, begrudgingly acknowledging the accuracy of his assumption. A smug smile lit up Tatsuya's face. Blushing from the root tips of his hair to the thin column of his neck, Kouki continued, "We took a cab and well. Um." 

He didn't want to add any details, it was so damn embarrassing. His friends would understand. Surely, they wou-

"Well _what?!_ " Kazunari yelled, unwinding one of his arms to thump on the table, rattling the plates. "You fucked like dogs in heat? Ripped clothes off each other with your teeth and rutted up against the door, then the mattress, then the sofa before even thinking of moving to the bed?!  _What, Kouki, what??_  Don't leave me hanging!" Kazunari pounding his hand on the table repeatedly, enunciating his demand. Tatsuya fervently nodded in assent. Atsushi yawned above him, his arms still around Kouki, bored of being there but at the same time, curious. 

Kouki shrieked, " _Kazuuuu!!_ You have been reading too many shitty fanfictions it's showing!" He knew his embarrassment taking over and making him trip over his own words, "Well.....yeah. Pretty much." He rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. "I _mean._ Oh god, it was so freaking hot! Holy shit! I didn't even know I could go _on_ like that!! Ahhhh I think my knees are still burnt from the rug, ha ha." Shaking his head, he felt his face calm down bit by bit. "But, its just a one time thing. I couldn't even talk to him when I tried to sneak out this morning. He even went so far as to ask me to sleep for a while and go for a coffee later and all _I_ wanted to do was get away. As far as I could, as fast as I could." He looked at his plate again, a wry smile taking over his features. A strange kind of acceptance prevailing over him.

Again. Silence.

Five seconds this time. 

That's almost a record. 

Tatsuya cleared his throat. "Kouki." It was a command and a request in one. He didn't continue until Kouki met his eyes. "Let me get this straight. You got ploughed hard by a supposed sex god and he asked to stay for like what? An hour? For a cup of coffee, a bit of breakfast and you just _bailed?_ " He leaned in to whisper, "To his face?"

Kouki scowled, lips pulling down at the sides. "You make it sound like it was my fault."

"It _is_ your fault." All three chorused.

" _How??!_ He is literally what I used to get out of my reality! I cant just _date_  him! I mean, every time I _look_ at him its like a throwback to all the mistakes I made! Every time I think about him, it will constantly remind me that 'oh yeah I fucked him to get over someone else.'" Kouki rounded on them, irritation bubbling up from inside him, guilt biting into his stomach, "And that is not fair to either of us. You _know_ its not. He does _not_ deserve my emotional baggage." He waited for them to retort, sighing when there was none. 

Kouki threw his hands up in the air, rolling his eyes. "Loooook! it doesn't matter anymore.  _He_ is still getting married. My life is going on juuuuust fine and I don't need attractive redheads godlike in bed to fuck me up more than I already am." He wiggled again, but this time Atsushi and Kazunari let him go. He stood up, picking up the empty plates and walking towards the sink, his shoulders stiff and back rigid. 

"Kou-chan, it's been six years since then and this is the _first_ time you did something like this." Kazunari spoke up, his voice levelled, "You know how hard we tried to get you out. Sure you cried and moped for weeks but, but, you never did anything stupid to get over it! Something impulsive like getting shitfaced! Or calling him and leaving a scathing voicemail or something. Last time we tried to get you drunk, _you_ ended up driving _us_ home. And this is totally, _completely_ , all on your own that I am so glad you _did_ lose your shit over a message. You always hole up at work-" Kouki glared, his eyes blazing, letting the dishes clank in the sink, the shrill sound making Kazunari backtrack rapidly, "-not that it isn't an _excellent_ thing to do but. Still."

"Come on, Kouki." Tatsuya placated. "It's just coffee. You guys would what? Share numbers? Talk about work? It's not much, is it?"

Kouki whirled, cocking his hip against the counter and facing the three. "Look I get it. But, I am not.... interested. So, what if he is a nice guy? How do we even know that _this_ guy would be _any_  different from the sludge I have been through?" He wrung his hands, crossing them across his chest and looking out the kitchen window. His closed expression giving no room for rebuttal.

The stripes of sunlight streaming into the tiny kitchen was warm, given the chilly climate. Swirling, almost invisible specs of dust got caught in the light, making them glitter like powdered diamonds. Kouki sighed, calming down from his tirade. His roommates were silent, though he concluded they were just giving him the time he needed to think. Letting him push it out of his system. He didn't think he had so much bottled inside, up until now.

He said softly, "You know what, I am done. With the whole flirting, dating, mind-gaming business. I am too tired for this. I don't think I can do it again." He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, shoulders lifting and falling freely in the process. He pushed the hair off his forehead and cupped the back of his neck. Blearily looking at the floor, his voice not above a whisper, "I don't remember what it feels like to love someone without fearing they will leave me one day." 

And there it was, again. The glazing over his eyes, the blurring of his vision and the clogging in his throat. This time too, he didn't want company in his pity party. _Too soon_. He wanted to get out, go to his studio and start something, channel his emotions into some productive use.

Atsushi ambled over to Kouki, putting his large palm on top of Kouki's head and patting it in silent reassurance before taking off his apron and walking to the bedroom. Tatsuya stood up, his chair squeaking on the hardwood floor and touched Kouki's shoulder lightly before he followed suit. He stopped on the doorway and said in a quiet voice. "You should give yourself a chance, Kouki. You just might be surprised."

Kouki didn't move, not even to retort. Tatsuya sighed, his shoulders sagging and he left, throwing a look in Kazunari's direction. The kitchen was quiet until they heard the distinctive click of their bedroom door.

He should have known his friends would understand his craving for time alone right now. Alone time to distract himself was different than alone time to curl into himself. If the shoe was on the other foot then he would have done the same thing. Kouki drew a ragged breath, placing his hands behind on the counter, his eyes closed. _Thank you, you two._

Kazunari watched him from his chair. "He isn't wrong, you know." 

Kouki snapped to him, ready to retaliate. He didn't get a chance. "We get what you are saying, Kou-chan. But, did you think we got our partners without suffering our share of personal angst?" Kazunari was scary when he was calm. He was calm now. His light grey eyes pierced straight through Kouki, picking at his soul. Kouki was reminded of ruby red eyes with elongated pupils. More intense than the stare he was being subjected to. Much much more.

_Strange._

"You _know_ how many years it took for Atsushi and Tatsuya to get together. You saw how broken Atsushi was when Tatsuya moved to the US for uni. You were there! Hell, even after being with him as a boyfriend for two  _years_ , I cant figure out if Shin-chan is into me like I am into him!" His voice rose, exasperation written all over his features, dripping into his tone. "God, Kou-chan. It doesn't matter if its this guy or any other guy. You don't really know what you have until you give it a shot."

He blinked, backing off. "Sure, it goes the other way around too. You never know how wrong you are about a person until its too late. I will give you that. I get your fears. I _really_ do. We all do. But, think about it." Raising his hands, palms facing forward, he acquiesced, "A little dating did no one any harm. You could just go on a few cutesy dates, see for yourself whether you want to take the plunge and then decide. Just......test the waters, okay? No one is going to kill you if you were to say, hm, you want to stay friends. Simple, isn't it?"

Kouki contemplated, his voice careful, "And if he doesn't back off after that?"

The smile that spread on Kazunari's face showed everything. He had won. "Oh, you don't have to worry about that." He rubbed his hands together in glee, "We have Atsushi on our side. And with Tatsuya standing next to him, the intimidation factor is pretty much _guaranteed_ to make any creep run for his life."

In spite of himself, Kouki snorted. "You are one. Sly. _Bastard_." Kazunari just snickered. "Thank you though. I will keep that offer in mind."

 

Starting to unbutton his crusty and wrinkled shirt, wincing at the smell, Kouki changed topics. "Those two are getting ready to leave for the bakery. I am gonna take a badly needed shower. What are you going to do?"

Kazunari gripped the table with both hands and leaned back as far as he could - chair tilting under his weight - savouring the danger of falling over. Going over the agenda for today, he mused, "I finished a shift at 2AM, and my call starts later in the afternoon. But I might sneak in during lunch to see Shin-chan. Hmmmm. I guess I will take a nap until then."

"You do that." Kouki nodded. He was about to strip himself off his shirt and go into their common bathroom when he remembered. "Oh yeah, how's the moving in coming?"

Kazunari chuckled darkly, "Aww Kou-chan, missing me already? Ok ok, stop looking at me like that. Its going....as planned. I am just - hmmm - maybe a day away from getting my blankets stored in his room? My toothbrush will soon have a permanent place in his cup too. I am actually shocked; I took out almost all my things from here and shelved it there and he _still_ hasn't noticed it? I am _terribly_ disappointed in Shin-chan. One time I caught him using my deodorant, Kou-chan, mine! He just used it like it was his own. I don't think he even knew how it got there."

Kouki pulled a face. "I pity the day Midorima-san asks you to move in with him and you tell him, in that obnoxiously cheery voice of yours, you have already been living with him for over half a year."

Kazunari cackled, rattling his chair, practically flailing his arms to grab the table and keep himself upright. "Oh _maaan!_ That is going to be sooo  _epic!_ I will definitely have my camera ready for that. I cannot. _Wait._ " Tears peeked out from the corner of his eyes as he continued to laugh helplessly. Kouki couldn't help but join in. A tiny part of him wanted to see that sight too.

"Ahhhh, but Shin-chan is like a squirrel you see; he scares easy." Wiping off the stray tears, Kazunari heaved to regain his breath. "When he _eventually_ asks me to move in with him and finds that I don't have much stuff besides a small stack of clothes, he wouldn't be, you know, all shook up about it." He shrugged his shoulders, impish grin still in place. "Hence, I gotta store all my stuff at his before it happens and appear like 'the perfect boyfriend who doesn't crowd his boyfriend's place'." The air quotes did not help his argument. He continued, thumbing his chin thoughtfully, "I am guessing, and this is purely based on how _astonishingly_ oblivious he is - oh Kou-chan, you have no idea how _much_ I suffered to get him to go out with me - it would take him about a year to see that three quarters of his closet is all _me_." He finished with a triumphant 'HA!', extremely pleased with the ingenuity of his plan.

Poor Midorima-san.

"You are such an asshole. And you used 'hence'. God, what is it with _today_." Kouki smirked at him, no spite in his words. "Alright, sleep well Kazu."

He received a thumbs up in response, Kazunari already occupying himself with the nutella jar again. He stumbled on his way to the bathroom, his sweaty, sticky pants making him sluggish. He pulled off his shirt and tore himself free of his pants and paused. He mulled on whether to put them in the hamper or hand wash them; he shrugged and balled them up and threw it in the basket - he can listen to Tatsuya's complaints about the questionable stains later.

*

 

Kouki closed his eyes and let the warm drizzle of the shower calm his mind. His shoulders relaxed, the tensions leaving the tendons as he loosened them, making him emit a blissful groan. Supporting his body by placing his palms on the tiles in front of him he lifted his head to face the soft attack of the steamy shower. The water cascaded down his body, traversing every inch of his skin, licking all the marks that had been made last night.

Exhaling an audible moan at the numbing relief he felt, he let his mind wander. Unsurprisingly to the conversation in the kitchen. He would be lying to himself if he denied feeling a tinge of jealousy every time Atsushi lazily wound his extra long arms around Tatsuya's waist to tuck his head under his chin or the way Midorima would sneak glances at Kazunari, whenever he thought no one was looking, each glance lingering a moment longer than the previous before blushing and looking away.

The gestures, so loving, casual, so seeped in their familiarity left him aching.

He felt happy for his friends to have found partners whom they loved and who loved them back. But, it was always happiness flavoured with a touch of envy. He felt terribly guilty about it, he should only be happy and not think of himself all the time. But he couldn't help it. It was selfish of him and he knew it.

It had taken him _six years_ to piece himself back together after the toxicity of his past relationships. Those that never meant anything, never amounted to anything, but scarring all the same. Like a freshly opened wound. He had staved off of dating, completely cutting off contact, just to bring himself to the state where he couldn't feel anything but apathy.

The ones of his past would be shocked if the saw him now, someone they had broken with their cold words and harsh actions. They were the ones that left him, yelling and turning the blame over to him, making him shrink further into himself. Confirming his belief that his share of happiness would never come. His presence would never be someone's priority. His laugh over the phone would never make someone smile into their pillow. Someone whom he could think of as significant and who regarded him as significant in return. Days were spent crying and blankly staring at the wall and nights spent hugging and curling into himself, willing desperately for sleep that evaded him. His friends had swooped in then, forcing him to live with them for a while until he could get back on his own.

Work had distracted him beautifully, his art major paying him off. He spent innumerable hours pouring out his feelings and frustrations to create whatever caught his fancy on any medium he chose. Be it kneading the paper-mache or chipping away wood with a razor blade or beating the hot metal iron to form the image he had in his mind, it became a let out for all his unrequited, discarded feelings. His works became more passionate and fiery and outspoken and more soulfully resonant as he began to channel his unshed tears and unheard screams into them. Suffering inspired him like nothing else had.

It turned out for the best; he could be happy for his friends now without thinking of himself. Acceptance was truly a blessing. He wore it like an armour, a shield, a wall around himself. Forming those walls was one of the best decisions he had ever made, concluded Kouki as he furiously scrubbed himself off with the lavender scented liquid soap. He winced audibly when the soap seeped into the scratches on his skin. The faintly visible nail marks and hickeys glowed red, making him flush with embarrassment.

One single text announcing his ex's marriage had driven him over the edge. Shattering down his walls with a single hit. 

 _Then those weren't walls, you fool. You built a pyramid of playing cards all these years._   

He didn't know how long he sat there on his work table with the phone in hand, looking at the same message listlessly. He didn't remember running, or ordering shots like his life depended on it or grinding against a guy on the dance floor. The next thing he knew was he was luring a drunk guy with red hair into a taxi and pulling up in front of the nearest love hotel. He knew for a fact that they didn't even make it past the room entrance for their first time. Oh _jeez._ He had been royally fucked alright. He softly jammed his head against the wall a couple times at his own stupidity.

 

Turning off the shower, he searched for a towel. Shivering a little without the heat, he wrapped himself up. He had woken up earlier than the redhead, and had tried to slink away without waking him up, terribly ashamed of what he had done and knowing he couldn't give any kind of proper apology without dying every few words. Ha _ha._

He should have known.

The Universe _loved_ to fuck with him.

He had hurt the poor guy. _He had used him and hurt him._ He was the lowest among the lowest. Effectively giving his insecurities and guilt-tripping conscious a wonderful field day today in his brain.

_Nope. No no no no._

_Stop it._

_Enough._

 

Feeling colder, he tightened his hold on the towel, hugging it around him as he wandered back to his room. The house was quiet, which meant Kazu was sleeping and the other two had left for work already. A quick check revealed that yup, the kitchen had been cleaned and there were two flasks placed on the island - coffee, he knew, for him and Kazunari. He tip-toed to their shared closet, toeing it open and rummaging through it. He unearthed a long sleeved white tee, striped sweatpants before something else caught his eye. Pulling it out, he found it Atsushi's old - _dreadfully_ old, was it from high school? - soft purple sweater. It wouldn't fit him now, so he wont mind - Kouki shrugged as he put them on. He sniffed the calming honeydew and jasmine smell of the fabric softener that wafted, rolling up the sleeves so his hands weren't buried by the large sweater.

He caught himself in the mirror and promptly decided that he wouldn't waste good gel on his hair today. It will have to remain the unfixable mess it is, irrespective of whether he was meeting his prospective sponsor or not. He already looked ten years younger than his actual age, with his sunken cheeks and huge eyes and small irises and slouching like a sulky teenager in clothes big enough for two people.

 

_Way to create an impression, Kouki. Score._

 

He picked up the flask, the one marked - _Kouchin_ \- and stepped out into the nippy morning air. Locking up behind him, he left for the studio, wondering what he could work on to kill the time until his sponsor showed up.

*

 

"So....I gather last night went well..?"

Reo stood next to his desk - one hip daintily perched on the table - rambling about how Eikichi had cooked pot roast for dinner and how it was the world's most wonderful date night before he cautiously broached the topic. Reo knew something was up; his usually 'fashionably late' boss had arrived earlier than literally anyone in the building today.

Akashi threw him a dull glare before scrutinising the data showing up on the screens. Two other laptops apart from the desktop computer were open for him, constantly notifying him of changes and shifts in the graphs. The stocks were looking good today. The negotiations of the Board resulting in a potential alliance was creating a remarkable buzz in the markets and prices of the shares were inching higher and higher. Of course, there was the talk of the gallery making rounds as well. Soon, an official press conference would take place, hiking the prices even more with all the added publicity.

He kept a careful watch on all of them as he listened with half a ear to Reo. He was unsure of what to think since he had seen Eikichi eat and the absolute last thing he would think of was the word 'wonderful'.

For a formal position as head of the Due Diligence Department of Akashi Group, directly reportable to Akashi, Reo hadn't stopped acting the same way as he was in high school. Sure, he had blown away the competition at the interviews and tests and was practically clairvoyant when it came to investigating the credit worthiness of their projects, ventures and clients and proved time and again that he was a valuable asset to the organisation, but still. He continued to treat Akashi the same way as before - teasing and prodding and making him spill his secrets and dragging him out of the office for tea and cakes. And for some reason, Akashi didn't mind at all. He knew Reo had best intentions, and that was not to say that his glares - that usually sent his other subordinates fleeing out the door - didn't faze him the least.  

Reo sighed dramatically, Akashi was being difficult today. Well, more than usual. The desk was littered with documents and reports with countless, colourful post-it notes sticking to the glass top and edges of the systems that occupied Akashi's attention.

" _Sei-chaaaaan_ ," he whined, placing his palms on the cluttered table and leaning forward he could loom over the computer screen at Akashi. "I am just interested to know what happened. You don't go out much and you walk in here today wearing the same coat you wore yesterday - which, by the way, stinks, oh dear _god, please_ let me take it to the dry cleaners - and a _turtleneck!_  You have _never_ worn a turtleneck before!" He straightened, his turquoise eyes shining as they stare at Akashi, "I am betting my entire week's pay that you have it on to hide the hickeys left by your date and you want me, _Me_ ," - pointing to himself and raising his eyebrows delicately as if the whole situation was incredulous - "to not ask you about it?"

Akashi twitched in his seat, fingers itching to hitch the shirt higher up his neck to escape the penetrating gaze it was subjected to. 

Reo noticed the action, his eyes glittered with silent laughter. A chuckle broke out. And another one. He slapped his hand over his mouth. "Oh my god, Sei-chan! You _squirmed_! You actually squirmed! Are you feeling _guilty_ , Sei-chan? Wait. Does that mean you walk-of-shamed here today?" 

"There is no hickey, I checked." Akashi narrowed his eyes when he heard Reo's muffled giggles, refusing to answer him. He hadn't bothered going back to his apartment. His emails were waiting and his father had called and one thing led to another, he had decided coming to the office would be more productive. The clothing store nearby took care to give him the dark blue turtleneck and a pair of pants, but unfortunately he hadn't bothered with another coat. A mistake he was repenting for, right now.  

He didn't bother with his poor muffling anymore. Reo's musical laughter filled the room, echoing like a peal of bells. "Oh my god, it's true! You walk-of-shamed here! Oh god, - _wheeze_ - I need to sit down. _Please_. My heart," - he panted, clutching his sides - "can take only so much." That was the most uncomfortable he had seen Akashi and he was getting more flustered by the minute as he desperately tried to regain the original frigid composure. _Who gets shy over casual sex these days?_ He hadn't pegged Akashi to be one. And yet, there was a distinctive light pink dusting on his cheeks and Reo couldn't think of any sight more cuter than that.

He heaved, waiting for his laughter to subside. He swept his hands in his hair, retying his ponytail and redoing the side clips to keep his fringe from falling and obscuring his eyes. Walking towards the glass wall overlooking the street below, he crossed his arms and observed. They were on one of the top levels of the skyscraper, the traffic below making the cars look like pieces in a board game, stacked and waiting for their turn. The light changed and they rushed out, like frenzied bulls unleashed from the pen. Smiling wryly, his eyes slid towards Akashi, form facing the window. "So, it was that good, huh?"

Akashi sighed. Reo didn't look like he would stop anytime soon. He commented, "Reo, don't you have better things to do?"

"Oh, we do, Sei-chan." Reo tucked his hands in his pockets and leaned against the window, facing Akashi. He waved his hand dismissively, lips curving into a smug smile. "But this is so much more interesting!"

Akashi shook his head, not taking off his eyes from the screens. He frowned at one of the them - he should make a call to one of the northern branches today. He made a note of it and stuck it to the edge with the others. Reo waited for his reply, exhaling loudly when there was none.

"Argh, Sei-chan. Fine, I will lay off." He shoved himself off the glass wall and started walking towards the doors. "Sei-chan, the client should be waiting for us. You want to go see them before or after lunch?" 

"Before." Akashi glanced at the clock. "About 11. At least _one_ thing should go without a hitch before noon."

Reo contemplated, there was still something he could try. He placed his hand on the door but stopped as if he remembered something. Spinning around to Akashi, he exclaimed, lightly clapping his hands, "Oh, its my turn to cook tonight and Eikichi has been hinting about pork cutlets for a while, would you like to have dinner with us? We can paint each other's nails after and binge on Korean drama!" His voice took on an higher note, his eyes shining with excitement.

Akashi didn't say anything in response, he knew it would lead to more badgering on 'last night'. Reo huffed, his shoulders sagging tellingly. "Sei-chan, you are going to grow an old balding man with wrinkles if you keep up that attitude."

Nope, even that didn't evoke anything. Only clicking and keyboard clacking sounds were heard in the silent room, with the occasional shuffling of papers. "Ugh, Sei-chan, what is with you these days? I thought you were more _fun_ in high school. Adulthood does not suit you." Reo didn't move from the door, and was starting to get slightly worried. If Akashi didn't snap either in irritation or with a quip, then there had to be a problem. Deeper than a casual sex night.

To his relief, Akashi leaned back in his chair and rubbed the heel of his hands over his eyes. "Reo. For the last time. I am 28, not old by any measure." His voice was exasperated, but not cold. That was a good sign. Reo breathed. "And no, I don't need pink nail polish on my fingernails, we have a meeting with the Board tomorrow. I would rather not have my father see me like that."

"Its not pink! It's _bambi_. There is a _huge_  difference!" Reo retorted, pulling himself to his full height, his hands on his hips. Akashi deadpanned, making Reo visibly deflate. "Ok Ok, I was just checking my options." He put his hands up in the air and turned to open the heavy door.

"Your only option to close the door behind you when you leave and not come in until 11AM to accompany me to see the client." Akashi murmured, cracking his knuckles and stretching his arms above him, his focus already back onto the screens. He waved a hand dismissively, rolling a shoulder to work out the kinks, "That is all I am allowing you. Now, shoo."

Reo snickered, only he would be privy to see Akashi use cute words. "Wow, looks like someone exercised a little too much and is feeling it now." He stuck his tongue out when Akashi glowered, before closing the door as instructed.

 

Akashi groaned. Pushing back the chair and getting up, he stretched. The knots in his shoulders were giving out one by one, sound echoing in the room, each uncurling movement prompting a relieved moan. He walked around the huge office, rubbing his neck and closing his eyes from the strain they were subjected to. Wave upon wave of data was streaming in from all directions, he had to keep a watch on the performance of all the segments and ventures covered under the huge umbrella of the Akashi Corporation. He didn't mind the workload usually, but tomorrow he had to present this, along with the projections for the near future, to the Board. 

Which meant, his father would be there and there was bound to be some snark, regardless of his stellar presentation. And of course, he would ask about his pet project - the new gallery - and its progress. Not only does he have to overlook the structure being built, the administration, financial operations and the potential profitability of the gallery but Masaomi had ordered Akashi to see a few artists personally and commission work from them, exclusively.

As if he had nothing better to do with what limited free time he had.  

 

 _I want to go home_.

 

_Just to go home and sleep._

 

He sighed, letting out his frustrations. He has to power through, no matter what. Rolling up his sleeves, he moved back to the desk, resigned. He glanced at the coat hung on the hook near his door. The long trench coat he had worn last night to the bar - and recalled hurried purposeful hands ripping it off his shoulders and throwing it near the suite entrance. He wondered if the smell still lingered, the heady smell of alcohol and sex. Reo had said so, enough to offer to have it laundered. He perked up, almost getting up to retrieve it when he stopped.

He shook his head.

No need to mull over something that was out of his reach.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takafurihimu BROT3 stemmed from this hilarious comic called [The Scorpio Squad](http://breedafool.tumblr.com/post/109839708793/so-i-was-talking-to-dreamy-pikat-and-one-thing) by Breedafool and it ate at my brain for a long time. I just added Murasakibara and made it a BROT4 for my own satisfaction.  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

Seijuro rapped his knuckles impatiently against the metal door of the nondescript building. The area the address had indicated looked like something anyone would miss in the passing, not offering a second glance. It had no discernible boards or colourful nameplates that made it stand out to the passerby. Nothing, to show that it was an art studio of one of the most sought-after names in the Art World. And yet, Seijuro stood in front of it, rather irritably, for more than twenty minutes in the frosty weather.

"Maybe he couldn't hear you. Isn't there a bell around here somewhere?" Reo was next to him, puffing clouds of air into his gloved hands before rubbing them. His hair was pulled back into a stylish yet unkempt ponytail, few strands tugged loose to drape his cheekbones artfully, giving him the Gallery Owner Look (whatever _that_ meant, Akashi had waved it off when Reo started to explain enthusiastically), and the side clips had been abandoned - courtesy the aforementioned Look. 

Seijuro huffed slightly, straightening his coat - his trench coat that still smelled faintly of alcohol and sex, in spite of the cologne he had sprayed on it. He hadn't been able to let go of it long enough to give to Reo for dry cleaning. Yet. "I don't know. Why don't you give it a try?" 

Reo shrugged and looked around, careful not to touch anything lest it dirty his feather-soft leather gloves. Not even Eikichi was allowed to touch them. He teased Akashi more than once on his intolerance of tardiness during meetings. Besides, he needed Akashi in a nice enough mood to handle the client today. “Oooh, you are prickly today, Sei-chan. i wonder what has gotten into you today. Or,” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively and leered at Akashi, "should I say, I wonder what you missed getting into today."

Ugh. This wasn't going anywhere.

"Reo." One mild glare and a single word command. It was ample to shut up Reo. He knew what Reo was doing. And he knew, Reo had a point. He cannot go to this meeting without being calm. No matter how much he burned with the urge to go home now. 

Seijuro took a few deep breaths. The awkward morning, the acute absence of a proper shower, the slight - _slight, tiny_  - stock dip in one of the Northern branches that had sent his phones and emails flying with notifications before he could set it right and mediate long enough to placate everyone involved and now, the actual act of getting a commission from one of the most finicky - and possibly too introverted, if he was being honest - artists he had had the misfortune to encounter, was getting on his frayed nerves. He just _cannot_ let his mood get any worse. Not if he wanted this meeting to go well. Especially with this one. Especially for Father. (Which added to the irritability factor, but that’s a story for another time).

This artist had been fickle to a point where even Akashi, the Master of Negotiations and Diplomacy and the Embodiment of Patience and Politeness, was compelled to chuck the phone at the wall imagining it to be the artist’s face. 

Furihata Kouki had refused, even after countless wheedling on Reo's part - who was gifted with a silver tongue, so honed, strong enough to make the Devil dance to his wishes - to visit their premises, refused to take them up on the offer they proposed and kept mumbling about "too many people crowding him" and "money-minded midgets" and "suits made him wary" and “lawyers are untrustworthy leeches”. Akashi was ready to fling him bodily across the ocean and he hadn’t even met the man yet. 

It had been troublesome, tiresome and whole other -somes, but not _impossible_  if it meant, for _them_ to come to _him_ with their offer and seek him out on his home ground, on his own questionable terms. They had had to pry him with a dozen phone calls to get this appointment and the bastard wasn't even opening his door. Seijuro swore.  

Akashi, normally, wouldn't have bothered with this Diva-type attitude, would have cast him and his newfound fame away like yesterday's newspaper. When he could have had thousands of artists who would willingly queue up around the block and answer to his beck and call, just to have a minuscule - one in a million - chance at displaying one of their pieces at the Akashi Gallery, this seemed like trying too hard for something that might not even be worth all that effort.

It was the newest, spiciest, freshest talk of the business world - The Akashi Group opening a huge gallery that displayed artworks from all over the world, portraying just one theme.

 _Love_. 

Be it any genre, any medium, any _form_ of Love, Akashi Gallery would have it shown, after personally approved by none other than Akashi Masaomi himself. It was the brainchild of both Seijuro and Father, to give the Gallery as a gift to Shiori as a celebration of 30 years of marriage. A small token of appreciation as an anniversary gift to the woman who flawlessly managed to keep them both in line for all these years. 

And Father had apparently seen a work of this artist abroad and was immediately impressed (which had never happened before, and Akashi could second that statement veritably) and insisted Akashi to bring him in. 

"Use any means necessary. I need the best work of his to be the Centerpiece at the Atrium." He had looked straight into Seijuro's eyes and calmly said, "Don't fail me, Seijuro."

Akashi internally bristled, recalling the meeting.

_It was for Mother._

_All this was for Mother._

He chanted that a few times in his head, to calm himself and not show any indignation towards this Furihata Kouki guy, who had already pissed him off and he hadn't even seen his unfortunate face. And that wasn't the only hurdle he had to tackle. _No_. 

For anyone to be _this_ private about their private life was good and respectable and all that jazz but in a business context it aroused nothing but suspicion. Reo had conducted thorough background checks but apart from a few cursory details from previous galleries where his works had been displayed, he hadn't been able to snatch a photograph of him anywhere. His contacts - extensive and exhaustive in their right - hadn’t been able to make out anything other than “an ordinary skittish guy who looked like any other struggling artist and worked only through commissions and was too choosy”. Believe him, he knew how ‘choosy’ Furihata Kouki was. 

Akashi did not like dealing with the Unknown. As a principle. He couldn't gauge his further actions that way, apart from a few calculated guesses and made-up possibilities. He liked to speculate sure moves beforehand and he, terribly, did not care for going blindfolded to this fight. And, if Furihata’s Diva-ness was any indication, there definitely would be a fight. 

So, in a word, frustrated. Added to the incidents leading up to this day, he was more on edge than anything.

 

“I can’t take this anymore. Let’s go.” Seijuro nodded decisively to Reo before he pushed open the metal door and walked inside. Reo followed, a little stunned at the informality of his actions. 

The sunlight from the open door rushed to stream in to fill the darkness, as there was only one light switched on inside the huge studio. The sole overhead light was enough to illuminate the table underneath and cast shadows over everything outside of its circumference. There were strange whirring and thumping sounds coming in from the back but otherwise the spacious room was annoyingly unoccupied.

“Those noises must have droned out the knocking.” Reo mused, stepping in carefully. 

Seijuro curled his lip slightly, “If it didn’t, and he is playing with us, I am walking out of here. Father’s request be damned.”

“Now, now, Sei-chan,” Reo pushed one wayward lock of hair behind his ear and reached to pat his free hand on Akashi’s shoulder reassuringly, “Let’s not be hasty. He might just turn out to be alright.”

“Hasty?” Seijuro shot a glare at him out of the corner of his eye. He was still near the periphery of the studio, with his back to the outside world as he tried gathering his strength to face the man, “He has been testing my patience for months, Reo. And, not to brag, but I have dealt with far worse and had come out unscathed. Yet, something about him is getting me more hacked off, by the minute. And we haven’t even seen each other!”

Reo sighed, “I know. How could I not, Sei-chan? I was there for all those phone calls too, wasn't I?" He rubbed a tired palm over his face and took a deep breath, “Just try to give the guy the benefit of doubt, would you? We need him and he might just turn out to be a normal, scared-of-the-Big-Corporate-Guy, starved, validation-hungry creator for all we know. Now come on in, we can’t mope there all day.”  

They didn't bother closing the door as they shuffled in, observing the silent chaos of the studio. The windows were grilled shut, layers of newspapers stuck to them to avoid any form of light or dust to enter. The floor space and the numerous tables had art works on them, littering every inch. There were canvases - covered and uncovered and blank - and paints and brushes and tarpaulin and wood chipping and saw dust and knifes and paper mache - Akashi feared they had hardened to the bucket more times than they had been used - and marble and granite and rocks of various sizes and varieties and hammers and tools of every kind in a chaotic mess (Arrangement? This mess was by design? Akashi wondered, disbelieving) across the room. 

Reo gave an impressed whistle. Even Akashi was amazed.

“Usually artists dabbled with one medium, but this one seems to be versatile. Isn’t it good luck to find him here, Sei-chan? Now we know he is definitely worth his salt.”

Seijuro nodded grudgingly, “Either he was trying to be creative in everything he wanted to play with or he had an unreliably short attention span.” He moved around the room, judging the work propped directly under the light, “Based on the unfinished drawings and half finished sculptures, I am inclined to believe the latter.”

Reo caught on, hiding his smile, “But you can see how Akashi-san was impressed so quickly, can’t you, Sei-chan.” It wasn't a question. Reo knew. Akashi knew too. 

Seijuro said nothing as he turned his face away. The sounds continued, coming in from the back. They both strode gingerly towards it, the sole ceiling light in the studio not helping them much in maneuvering around the works. There seemed to be another room, off the far wall and nearly hidden behind the large shelves, the noises increasing in their volume as they neared it. 

Reo nodded to Seijuro before he opened the door and stumbled back slightly as a strong wave of heat engulfed them from the other room. They stood at the doorway as they watched the artist - definitely the artist, because he was also known for not engaging any assistant or student, as he had so snootily, Akashi might add, stated in one of their numerous, altogether unhelpful, phone calls - bang metal against metal, the heat from the continuous thwacks sending sparks flying every time the hammer attacked it precisely where he wanted.

Akashi cleared his throat rather pointedly and loudly over the din, announcing their presence. Furihata Kouki just raised a gloved hand like a stop sign and continued with his work. He was fully protected, the metal mask and the vest and gloves showing wear and tear and he didn't take his concentration off his task. 

Reo put a hand on Akashi's shoulder and made him take a step back, a small hesitant smile on his face. Akashi acquiesced. They could wait a little longer, he supposed. Furihata Kouki wasn’t going anywhere. No where to run anymore, he thought with glee. 

This sobered him enough to breathe easier. He felt relaxed now. In control. 

Akashi watched with concealed interest, as the guy expertly molded the metal to what he deemed to be content with - to Akashi, it still looked mangled but he wasn't the expert here and he admitted, with grace, that an artist would probably see things that he couldn't as a layman - and set the burner in a safe place slightly farther away and dip the hammer and other tools including the work piece in a tub of water. The water bubbled rapidly at the heat, fizzing angrily and sizzling at the surface.

The artist didn't acknowledge them as he walked past the doorway to the main studio, closing the door behind him and moving to remove his thick, sturdy, workman gloves, one by one off each finger with his back facing them. Akashi and Reo exchanged a look as they watched him, deciding whether he was purposefully ignoring them or waiting to talk to them without his gear on. 

He swiftly pried himself off his protective vest when Reo spoke up, unable to be quiet any longer. "Furihata-san, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person! I am a _huge_ fan of your works! Good job with that wrought iron! What is it going to be, might I ask? A unicorn like the one shown in the Okinawa gallery?!"

Furihata turned with helmet still on, and chuckled warmly. “Ah, a fan? Thank you so much, it makes me happy you like that one - wait, let me get this off, I am being rude.” He shifted, taking off his helmet and letting the messy brown locks free. Some stuck to the back of his neck and the light sweatshirt he was wearing - which Akashi noticed, seemed a little too big for him - stuck to his lithe frame, due to the heat he had been in. That was a rational explanation. No need to salivate over a sweaty lithe body at all. No reason at all, Seijuro. Why was this affecting him, anyway? 

He stretched his back, highlighting his lean muscles, popping the kinks in his shoulders loudly with a satisfied groan - Akashi shifted subtly, thanking the shadows for hiding his blush - and faced Reo who had walked over to stand at his side. “I have been working on that one for a while now but, I don’t think it’s listening to me properly.” Furihata added with a rueful laugh, “Or, maybe, I don’t think I am hearing it right.”

Reo smiled understandingly, “Oh, but I am sure, you will get it right soon, Furihata-san.” He added, with a pointed look in Seijuro’s direction, “We all need to have a little bit of faith, don’t we? And besides,” Reo demurred, his smile turning coy as his eyes slid to Furihata again, “I never thought the artist of so many great works would be _this_ cute!” 

“Look at you! So young and so talented, Furihata-san!” Reo prattled on, it coming to him like a charm, “You had us believe you were an old man, scared of the young generation, with all those calls. I was half convinced I would be shouting the entire proposal to you to get you to hear. See! I even brought my tiny magnifying glass for you to check things with.” 

Furihata rubbed his nape, blushing at the praise and vainly trying not to laugh at the tall, beautiful man with a ponytail - _a ponytail, fuck_ \- and dazzling turquoise eyes, “Ahh. Um. Thank you, I, uh, enjoy making things with my hands ha ha. Been always creative, my mum used to say. And ahhh, you shouldn’t say _I_ am cute when, um,” - he scratched his cheek, eyes looking away from the tall, beautiful, skinny - _fuck, he could give Tatsuya a run for his money_ \- man who stood next to him - “you, yourself look like  _that_. I mean, um,  _wow_."  

Reo was practically vibrating in place, barely restraining the urge to hug the poor, hapless artist, at that point when Akashi gave him the Look, reminding him of their business. Reo can flirt in his own time. Akashi needed to get back to the office, as soon as he can wrap this up, lunch be damned. It was already noon and who knew how much longer the negotiation will take.  

“And ahhh, I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to be rude or anything! It may have sounded that way, but I, uh, I am very wary, you know?” Furihata rambled on, genuinely apologetic by his tone, and Reo nodded companionably by his side at proper intervals, “Wary of who is handling my stuff and I don’t want to deal with a lot of people because I get nervous easily and yeah....pretty much that’s why I make people come here. To the studio. So I can be relaxed when I deal with them. Well. Tiny bit relaxed, I guess?” He looked at Reo and smiled shyly when Reo sent him a winning smile in return. 

Hook, Line and Sinker. Furihata Kouki had fallen. As if there had been any doubt.  

This was Reo’s biggest selling point. Put the client at ease, charm them enough lower their guards, before Akashi went in for the Kill. Akashi stood further away, unseen by the dim overhead light of the room, observing the brunet. 

It looked like he had seen him somewhere, but he wasn’t completely sure. His voice, his body, and that bloody infuriatingly apologetic tone most of all, seemed too familiar, but he just couldn’t place it. The thought nagged him, too much, adding to his increasing frustration and worsening mood.

_Calm. He needed calm now. He had the upper hand. Always._

_The Akashis had the upper hand and they were always Calm and Collected._

_Deep breaths, Seijuro._

_And, definitely, don’t think about the brunet from last night, now._

_Fuck, that’s not helping._

_Or how Furihata’s messy hair reminded him of the brunet._

_Seijuro, No._

_Inhale._

_Did the brunet also have a large sweatshirt that made Seijuro want to fuck him in it?_

_Exha-Fuckkkk._

"Ah~ before things get out of hand," Reo gestured to where Akashi stood; and with an artsy head tilt, his hair dancing like they had been scripted to, he went on, "I would like to introduce myself, Mibuchi Reo - you can call me Reo-nee, please, won’t you, Furihata-san?" he pouted at the blushing guy, "And would like you to meet your prospective client, the one and only, Akashi Seijuro.” 

Reo stood to his full height and beamed at Furihata - he was starting to like Furihata, a lot, already - and with a sly wink, “And we, at Akashi Corporations, would certainly be immensely pleased if we had the utmost honour to display one of your illustrious works at our new Gallery.” He dipped his head in a slight bow, ending with a dramatic flourish.

Perfect Reo, Seijuro smiled fondly before schooling his features to a polite indifference. The upper hand, he reminded himself.  

Seijuro straightened at his name, stepping into the range of light, mentally going over the countless things he could say to placate the artist into commissioning a piece. It didn’t matter if he was dealing with the Unknown, he still had his contingency plans in place for each carefully evaluated scenario. He would just have to be flexible with the dealing now and craft a concrete plan that Father would approve. He _would_ excel today. 

Furihata flushed and gaped at Mibuchi-san? - _Reo-nee_ , now, his mind unhelpfully supplied - and slowly spun to where Reo was gesturing, a polite smile stretching on his face, braving himself for hours of bargaining and rightful pricing. God, he hated bargaining, but he would get paid shit if he didn’t. Necessary evil and all that. 

Red met brown. 

And time froze.

*

Reo’s eyebrows were in the danger of being swept into his hairline. 

One look at Sei-chan, and Reo came to startling realisation that Furihata Kouki meant something more than just an investment, badgered into by Akashi-san. The totally, too cute to be true, badly in need of good food and sleep, artist was frozen at his side, quite possibly just a scant few seconds away from hyperventilating, but Sei-chan - King of Poker Face, his normally unfazed Sei-chan - looked like the wind had been, frankly, punched out of him. Now, _that_ was quite a revelation.

Shock was written all over his face but also...a tinge of hurt ( _??!!_ ) before it was carefully masked by his perfect Professional Façade. Reo did a back-take.

_Hurt??_

_Sei-chan?_

By.... _Furihata-san?!_

His instincts rang off little alarm bells as he whipped his head around so fast, to analyse the person who had dared to bring about such a look on Sei-chan. He once-d over the artist with a different view now - a _very_ critical, judging one - to pinpoint in what way he could have hurt Sei-chan. 

Furihata was looking like a fish out of water now, opening and closing his mouth wordlessly and staring at Akashi in horror. Or sheer terror, maybe. Reo pursed his lips and scrunched his brows to figure out what the hell had happened between them, delectable artist or not.  

There was no chance they had met previously - Reo was the only one close to Sei-chan since their school days, and  _nothing_ went past him without notice - and he knew Sei-chan's previous flings too, worthy, distinguished, well-known men all including that nearly invisible and awfully sarcastic man, but none had caused _this_ much of an impact on Sei-chan. Not even when they left Sei-chan, and all of them had; Sei-chan had never slagged once in his competence and conduct, never truly showing what he felt. Despite all the fruitless prying on Reo’s part.  

Reo would have missed them if he wasn’t scrutinising with scary attention, when he noticed the nearly invisible reddish marks along the line of Furihata’s bony neck. Teeth marks, they had to be, for sure. 

Then.....this person could only be...Oh.

 _Oh_.

 _Ohhh_.

Oh _my_.

 _Sei-chan, you lucky bastard._  

Furihata Kouki at the precise moment, seemed to have gathered his power of speech and spoke in that cute, adorably squeaky voice of his, “Ehhh...ummmm, He-hell-lo...?” 

Thankfully, Reo had more control over himself, otherwise he would have started giggling at the way the brunet blushed to the tips of ears and down his neck and gripped onto the table until his knuckles turned white. He was staring at Akashi similar to something straight out of a horror film, and he was trying really hard not to run away. Reo wanted to hug him or snicker at his face. Or both. He couldn’t decide.

Oh. The sheer _drama_.

Deciding that these two wonderfully oblivious idiots needed a moment - a lot more than a moment, he corrected, hastily - alone, and they probably, _most definitely_ , had already forgotten Reo was there - if the way their eyes never left the others' was anything to go by - he excused himself and walked away from the scintillating scene in the studio. It was hard, dreadfully hard walking away, but he did. He deserved a medal. 

Closing the heavy door noiselessly behind him, he leaned against it and cast his eyes heavenwards. And burst out laughing. He clutched his sides, leaning forward and felt tears prick his eyes.

 _Of all the places in all of Japan_ , he shook his head. 

 _Only Sei-chan_.

Fate’s favourite child, Shiori-san would say.

Yeah. _Favourite._

Reo tried in vain to control as the next set of helpless peals of laughter threatened to spill out of him. His stomach hurt and his eyes were moist. And the peeling paint of the building was dangerously close to touching him and tainting his expensive coat. He heaved heartily and gulped lungfuls of air and brushed himself off any imaginary lint that might have dared to land on him. He peered up at the building from the pavement, sighing to himself.

_What he wouldn't give to witness and document the drama that was about to unfold inside._

But.....some things were better heard as a retelling than seen first hand.

Besides, he still had to extract the full story, piece by excruciating piece from Sei-chan before he got to the current part. He did not particularly care for spoilers, even though he could foresee the ending of this particular situation. He prayed for Sei-chan to not fuck up now. Or Reo would have to kill him. Slowly. Painfully.

And as an added bonus, he would get the story from Furihata-san as well, after Sei-chan eventually gets closer to the him. If, Sei-chan doesn’t fuck up and actually talked stuff now. Dear god, he better talk. Or else. 

_Perhaps he should go back and make them talk.....no._

_They would figure it out. They_ were _adults. Nearly 30. Oh, his Sei-chan was almost 30. How time flie-Anyway!_

_They would talk. Sei-chan won’t let go of the contract. Akashi-san had been almost adamant about it._

_And Furihata-san was interested enough to commission for them._

_So, they would work things out._

_Hopefully._

_Maybe._

_He should take a peek, just in case. Check if things are going smoothly._

_No, Reo. No._  

He sighed again and sent a fervent prayer to any of the Gods who could hear him. Although....

If this turned out well, he would have a happy Sei-chan, a pleased Akashi-san, an impressed Shiori-san and most importantly, an adorably messy haired and ridiculously easily flustered Furihata-san. His Sei-chan would have a date now. A date who very well had Reo’s Stamp of Approval stuck on him. A boyfriend, hopefully. He could easily imagine him and Eikichi having dinner and movie night with Sei-chan and Furihata-san. Who would probably then be.....Kouki? Kou-chan? Kou-chan. Nice. Would it be too soon to call him that now? He would ask Sei-chan tomorrow.  

Humming a happy tune, he started walking leisurely, adding a little skip to his step from time to time. A couple of women passed by, glancing at him shyly, judging his artsy hair and expensive clothes and movie-star looks. He winked playfully at them as they tittered secretively. The meeting would go well, he was sure of it. Well. 79% sure. But, hey, that was better than a 50%. 

Concluding that he didn't want to wait outside in the chilly weather, he fished out his phone and tapped off a quick message. Besides, he was absolutely sure that Sei-chan wouldn't be back for at least a few hours. Maybe he would go out for lunch. That would speed things up quite nicely, he smiled to himself. 

_Pick me up?_

The reply came almost instantly. 

_I thought you were with Akashi?_

_I was, but he will be busy for a while and.....my work here is done. So..._

Reo bit his lip, Eikichi had a relatively free day today but what if he was on call soon? And, it _was_ Reo’s turn to cook tonight so maybe he could get some shopping done before he got home. He was just about to send a _“No need, I will come home on my own. You have a nice da-”_ when his phone pinged again.  

_Shoot me the address. Ll be there in five._

Smiling to himself, he texted back and pocketed his phone. He could go grocery shopping with Eikichi now and be home with plenty of time to prepare pork cutlets for dinner. Maybe he should make some more and keep it aside for Sei-chan. 

Just in case. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three more chapters are added because I had some more plot to write into this verse.  
> The tags are changed to accommodate the next chapter. Which will be posted soon.


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